


A Thousand Green Water Lilies

by thepudz



Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: 19th Century France, Adora Realizing They're Non-Binary, Alternate Universe - 19th Century, Angst, Body Dysphoria, F/F, Falling In Love, First Kiss, Fluff, Gardener Adora, Historical Inaccuracy, LGBTQ Themes, Love Confessions, Love at First Sight, No Transphobia, Non-Binary Adora, Nonbinary Character, Painter Catra, Period Piece, Romance, Scorpia is Royalty, Sexual References, Slow Burn, Strangers to Lovers, This fic is not historically accurate, and there was only one bed, binding
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-10
Updated: 2021-03-10
Packaged: 2021-03-17 01:47:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29959110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thepudz/pseuds/thepudz
Summary: 1800s France. An uncertain time. After the loss of a close relative, talented painter Catra must live on a château with her friend, Princess Scorpia. There, she keeps to her studio and canvases, and looks to the large garden outside for inspiration. She is safe, but alone.Until one day, she sees a beautiful gardener outside her window that takes her artistic eye and becomes the subject of many of Catra's paintings. That gardener is named Adora. And when Scorpia brings them together, Catra realizes there may be more to life than just art.Slowly, Adora helps Catra learn to deal with loss, and love life a little more, while Catra helps Adora through the struggle of her own gender identity and feeling comfort within her own body. And through it all, they begin to find love within each other...ORAn AU that takes place in 19th Century France, in which Catra is a lonely, isolated painter, and Adora is the gardener outside her window that takes her keen, artistic eye. Adora helps Catra overcome a recent loss, and Catra helps Adora feel comfort in her own body and gender identity. Featuring art by @nrchornyttps!
Relationships: Adora/Catra (She-Ra)
Comments: 32
Kudos: 73





	A Thousand Green Water Lilies

**Author's Note:**

> A new story for y'all! And this time, I'm super excited to collab with an absolutely incredible artist, @nrchornyttps, who you can find on Twitter! His art is absolutely fantastic and I'm so honored to work alongside him. We've both put a lot of thought into this AU, but it was his idea! So you have him to thank for this story.
> 
> The upload schedule may be slow for this story as I am currently undertaking classes. We'll do our best to have chapters out when we can. You can follow me on Twitter at @thepudzoutlook1 for updates and progress!
> 
> And as mentioned in the tags, this fic is NOT HISTORICALLY ACCURATE!!! Please do NOT come here looking for a perfect representation of 19th century France, you will be disappointed! It is mostly for the aesthetic <3 
> 
> And yes, this fic will have non-binary Adora. Or more specifically, Adora going on a journey into realizing they're non-binary. It'll come from personal experience and I'm excited to write it!
> 
> Without further ado, let's commence another journey!

Catra’s blue and yellow eyes stared at all the canvases around herself in the small studio room. Among all the colors and blends and visible strokes of the brush on the paintings, not a single one of them had the color green.

The air in the cramped studio building felt hot and damp. Catra sat on the wooden floor, looking at all the work around herself. Her own work. Dozens of paintings, most unfinished. Some even torn to shreds.

But there were those few beauties. Ones of the sky. Ones of the lake outside. And some even of the studio itself.

But technically, they were all unfinished. None of them had a single stroke of green on them.

Catra preferred it that way.

The studio she lived in was but a tiny building placed on the large property of a château. It was seemingly a small shack among a grassy field, close-by to one of the largest and most beautiful gardens Catra had ever seen.

Even after living in this studio for the last year, Catra knew no names but two. One was of Princess Scorpia, the owner of this château and a good friend. Although she lived a life of royalty, she never lost her humility. She was the one that gave a home to Catra.

The other name was Entrapta. She did not live on the château, but she might as well have. She shared parts of Catra’s small studio, constructing everything from wheels to comfortable seats for carriages. At least, that’s Catra thought she did. Although Entrapta was messy, she was at least kind enough to keep her mess contained.

Not like Catra was any better.

In her part of the studio, messes of canvases, sketches, paints, brushes, cups of water and paper surrounded herself. And she sat among her empire of chaos.

When she was alone, Catra felt safe. The solitude of isolation and the silence of an empty room were feelings Catra was used to, and she took comfort in familiarity.

Being by herself was the only way to be. Without distractions, Catra could focus on her work. Observing, imagining, crafting.

Catra was born to paint.

After a small break of sitting on her studio floor for a few minutes, Catra stood and went to close the open window. Letting some air in was something Princess Scorpia insisted on, though Catra never did it for long.

As she went to close the window, a sudden gust of wind came along.

Catra winced at the blast of cool wind on her face, and it caused everything within the studio to come to life. Brushes rolled around on the floor, wood creaked and groaned from its old age, and most disastrously, the loose paper began to have a mind of its own.

Catra never minded when her paper took a walk around the studio. But it was frustrating when one piece of paper tried to escape and flew right out the window with the gust of wind.

She snatched a hand to grab the escapee, but it was too late. She could only watch the paper fly out the window and high into the air, almost laughing at her as it danced off with the wind and towards the garden.

Catra sighed as the sheet of paper circled around in the air above the large garden outside the even larger palace.

The garden was filled with green, a color Catra loved and despised at the same time. Roses, bushes, hedges, and seemingly a thousand green water lilies in a mossy lake.

And eventually, the escapee paper came to rest on that very lake, beneath a stone bridge.

As much as Catra would’ve loved to leave the paper there, she knew that she owed Princess Scorpia a lot. Seemingly leaving paper in her lake would probably not be the nicest way to pay her back for all she’s done.

But Catra also groaned in frustration when she knew she’d have to take a journey outside to collect it. The gardens seemed empty. But today was a day she wanted to spend inside. Having to break that routine was, to put it politely, a pain in the ass.

But Catra was used to pain.

She made herself a little bit more presentable before stepping outside. A neat white shirt, slightly unbuttoned to show off her chest considering how warm it was today, as well as some red pants that were comfortable to wear.

She didn’t wear shoes before she stepped outside. She liked feeling the cold grass and dirt beneath her feet.

The sky looked blue today, filled to the brim with puffy clouds. She looked up as she walked towards the garden, breathing in the fresh air. It felt light, almost weightless compared to the damp indoors of the studio.

She stepped towards the garden, curling her toes into the grass. She looked down to see dirt gathering between her toes, sticking and staying.

When she stepped onto the cobblestone path, the dirt clung to her feet.

The lake was but a minute of walking, but she took a while to look around at the green hedges, rose bushes and gentle streaming lake. She could bring this all to life on a canvas, and she had tried many times.

But there was always something missing.

An insect buzzed by her ear. It was almost silent out here. When she saw the piece of paper sitting atop the mossy water, she knew there was no way of reaching it from the surface.

Well. It was a hot day, after all.

Catra rolled up her pants, bunching them up to her knees and exposing her legs, soft tufts of hair covering them. She stepped into the water, feeling its coolness surround her legs and drive up her body. The dirt on her feet washed away instantly, and the hairs on her legs stuck closer.

Refreshment.

She loved and hated it.

She stepped into the water, grabbing the soaked piece of paper. It was beyond its worth now, almost crumbling in Catra’s hands. But it would not have a grave at the lake. Catra would properly dispose of it elsewhere.

As Catra stepped out of the lake, she realized that a sound had suddenly broken the silence.

The splashing of water beneath her feet came to a silent still, and Catra heard something among the insects and wind.

A soft voice singing.

Scorpia liked to sing, but it didn’t sound like her. It was someone else. Someone Catra had never heard before.

She looked to her left, and saw a gardener.

Their long golden hair was the first thing Catra noticed. It was done up in a tight ponytail behind their head. They wore dirt-covered work trousers held up by black suspenders, and a messy white button-up shirt, the sleeves rolled up to expose their muscular arms.

Catra felt herself come to a stop when she spotted them among the gardens, on their knees before a patch of dirt, extracting weeds from a field of roses.

Instantly, one thought came to Catra’s mind as she laid eyes on this gardener.

They were one of the most beautiful people Catra had ever seen in her entire life.

Their blue eyes remained focused on their work, but their voice was that of an angel. They sung to themselves softly, but amidst all the silence, Catra could hear every word. She could listen to it all day. She never listened to music much, but this was an exception.

Catra realized she had been staring too long. The gardener took no notice as they buried their hands into the dirt and yanked the weeds out from the roots. Their hands were rough, with dirt in their fingernails.

Were they new? Catra had never seen them before. Then again, she never looked outside much.

She felt her legs dry as she walked back to her studio off to the side of the garden. It was visible from wherever one stood in the garden, but it was out of the way.

Did this person look to her studio, like how Catra looked to them?

Catra stepped into her studio. Instantly, the air felt heavier. It weighed on her shoulders. She was hugged by the strong arms of safety, but sometimes those arms were too tight. They suffocated her. And yet she let it happen.

Catra looked out to her window to see that gardener moving from the rose bushes and towards the apple trees. They stepped over the cobblestone bridge, above the water lilies, and reached the shade of the trees.

Apples covered the leaves of those trees. They reached up and began to pick at them.

Catra looked for a few more seconds, and she knew there was nothing else in the world that deserved to be captured more than that.

She disregarded her multiple works in progress in favor of grabbing another canvas.

She set it beside the window, keeping her subject in frame, along with their environment. She brought her brushes to the window ledge, along with the cup of water and her palette. She would be here for a few hours.

It would be nice if the gardener stood among those trees for as long as she needed, but that was unlikely. It was no matter. Catra could remember the image well enough.

She rubbed the hairs of the brush along the deep blue paint and put the wooden handle of the brush between her lips gently, looking to her subject for a few more minutes.

Subject wasn’t the right word. They were, in and of themself, art.

Catra knew she could never bring herself to speak to them. Her interaction with other people was always limited. She never had friends or anyone growing up. No contacts, except for one person.

But that person was gone now.

Catra nodded to herself once she had the idea in mind, and painted the first stroke into her canvas. It was but a small dab, which led to many others. Small, thin, yet visible strokes of vibrant color. No stroke was more than an inch long.

With this method of impressionism, the colors of the sky and the lake were brought out. The wood of the tree was brighter than usual.

But Catra never used the color green.

The leaves, the grass, the bushes, all of them were left with the bare white of the canvas. Red spots of apples were among completely white leaves. But most of all, the gardener stood among colorless fields.

Catra brought their hair, clothes, dirty hands and body to life on the canvas. The way they reached for an apple, placing it into the basket by their feet. The sweat building on their forehead. It was all vibrant beauty and detail, brought about by small, thin strokes.

The gardener moved on eventually, and when Catra looked up at one point, she couldn’t find them again. Perhaps they were done for the day. The sky was beginning to turn orange, after all.

She felt a weird sense of emptiness in her stomach when she realized the gardener was gone. She never spoke to them, never told them how beautiful she found them. They didn’t even know her.

But there was a connection. There was love.

Catra expressed her love through paint. She admired them, she loved them, and she kept her distance from them.

She feared ever getting closer to them. And yet she felt sad when they left.

Catra took a step back after these feelings became too overwhelming. She looked to the canvas.

It was the exact view outside her window. Apple trees, cloudy skies, and a beautiful person.

But half of it was without color.

And the gardener had no face.

Catra didn’t even realize she hadn’t bothered to paint their face. Perhaps, subconsciously, she felt as if she could never bring that beauty to life.

But perhaps she also had trouble looking them in the eyes.

Perhaps she didn’t even know them at all.

Perhaps this was a major waste of time.

Like with most of her other works, Catra grew angry at her own creation. She had flashes of shredding it to pieces. She had to do everything in her power to stop herself. But it became harder and harder with each second she stared at her worthless work.

Catra looked to the garden one last time in a pathetic attempt to try and find the gardener again.

No such luck came, and it was getting darker.

She didn’t feel like eating. Her mind was cluttered with contradictory thoughts, and images of that person.

Them.

Their beauty.

Their voice.

Their everything.

Catra felt her brush drop from her hand and clatter against the floor as she ran a hand through her own long hair, undoing her ponytail and sighing. Nothing was ever simple. Would the gardener ever return again?

She sat on the small bed in the corner of the studio. It was but a mattress placed on the floor, really. She raked her fingers tightly through her messy hair as she thought of the gardener. She should’ve spoken to them. She should’ve fucking spoken to them.

But the idea of talking to anyone new made Catra’s heart panic.

She cursed herself. For her social anxiety. For her worthless talent. For her isolation. She cursed herself.

She went to bed in silence without saying a word the whole day. It was like that most days.

Catra dreamt of the gardener and their singing that night.

She wished she could stay in that dream forever.

* * *

Catra rested her forehead against the glass window as she stared out towards the garden and its one inhabitant.

She had her arms crossed as she leaned against the window. She was still wearing the same outfit as yesterday. So were they.

Since yesterday, two more pantings had been created of the gardener. So much so that Catra had to politely ask Princess Scorpia for a few more canvases, since she had run out. She always felt bad and offered to pay, but Scorpia, in her ever-loving kindness, denied any payment.

And now, with a wait between paintings, Catra could only look to the gardener.

Her other two paintings consisted of similar environments. The gardener pulling out weeds from the rose bushes, their strong arms slightly flexing as they did. Catra painted it once again without the color green, and without a simple droplet of detail in the gardener’s face.

The other painting was of the gardener standing within the lake. Much like how Catra did yesterday, with their pant legs rolled up. They had cupped some water in their palms and spread it through their own long, golden hair.

The painting was mostly dark blue to reflect the water. But all the moss and water lilies were colorless once more.

And now, with the orange afternoon rolling around, Catra wondered if the gardener would leave soon. They were attending to the hedges, trimming them neatly. The large blades cut the loose leaves. They were sweating, and Catra almost wanted to bring them some water.

But instead, she stood in her useless studio and stared uselessly at the gardener.

She wanted to be close to them. To hear them sing again. Hear them talk.

She didn’t even know their name.

“Hey, Catra!” A sudden cheery voice sounded as the door to her studio opened. Catra jolted at the sudden invasion of her only safe space.

“Scorpia… Haven’t I told you to knock?” Catra asked with some bitterness in her voice. She didn’t mean to be so hostile, but being interrupted in the middle of yearning was certainly an annoyance.

“Oh… Right. Sorry,” Scorpia clenched her teeth in apology. “I, uh… I got your canvases!”

“I appreciate it. You can just put them anywhere,” Catra gestured to the whole studio as she continued to stare out the window.

The gardener was putting away their trimmer. Perhaps their day was done. Perhaps this was the time they would leave. Catra was trying to get a sense of their schedule.

Would they return? Would they…

“What’re you looking at?” Scorpia, all of sudden, was standing directly behind Catra and looking out the window with her.

“AH!” Catra cried out at the sudden closeness of Scorpia. “Nothing! Just… Just the garden!”

“Oh yeah… You art people and your observations. Important stuff. I like it!” Scorpia grinned, but Catra could only look up at her with annoyed eyes. “Garden’s looking better nowadays thanks to Adora. She’s really been doing fantastic…”

“Adora? Is that… Is that the gardener out there?” Catra asked, looking out the window.

“Yeah! Is she still there? Oh geez… I told her she was meant to go home an hour ago. She really gets into her work,” Scorpia sighed.

“What… What’s her schedule?” Catra asked, trying to make it sound like casual conversation.

“Ah, she gets to decide it. However long it takes for her to work things out. But I feel bad if she’s here past five o’clock,” Scorpia admitted. She looked to Catra with a smile. “Hey, I didn’t know you were so interested in her.”

“I’m not!” Catra denied.

But when Scorpia looked at the three paintings consisting of Adora, she began to think otherwise.

“Hey… Talk to me, Cat. What’s going on?” Scorpia asked. She could see Catra’s faint blush, and combined with the paintings of Adora… “I mean, only if you want! No pressure, I just thought…”

“I think I’m in love, Scorpia.”

Scorpia’s eyes widen at the sudden blunt statement.

“I…” Scorpia, one who could usually talk for hours, was speechless. “With her…?”

“Who else?” Catra asked.

“Well, I…! Catra, I’m not judging you, but she’s only worked here for two days!” Scorpia said with a hearty chuckle. “Did you two organize a date?”

“No, Scorpia… It’s not like that. I’m not in love like I want to date them. It’s more…” Catra looked to Adora for a few seconds. “… I’m in love with the way they are. The way they live. I’m in love with painting them and admiring them and… I don’t know. It’s hard to describe.”

“Well… Have you talked to her?” Scorpia asked. “Maybe she could be your next model.”

“It’d never work out. Scorpia, look at all my paintings of them. What’s something you notice in them?” Catra asked, gesturing to her canvases.

Scorpia studied them for some time, tapping her finger on her chin like she was at an art exhibition. “Well… There’s no green in them.”

“That’s in _all_ my paintings, and you know why.”

“Right, right… Well…” Scorpia looked closer. “Hey… They’re not finished. You haven’t done her face.”

“Because I could never do their face the proper justice it deserves,” Catra explained. “That’s why I can’t talk to them. Besides… I’m not good at talking to strangers. You understand well enough. I love them, but I shall continue to love them from a distance. It’s the only way.”

Scorpia looked to Catra with worried eyes as she continued to look out the window towards the gardener. She wanted to do more for the artist, but in the year since she met Catra, Scorpia knew how stubborn she was on certain things.

And one of those things was her never getting out of her comfort zone.

“Well… I’ll leave you to it then,” Scorpia smiled as she headed for the door. Catra returned with a complimentary nod.

As Princess Scorpia exited the studio and closed the door behind herself, she couldn’t help but think on Catra’s words.

Catra had never been in love with anything, not even her own paintings. So for her to be in love with a gardener…

Scorpia couldn’t let this opportunity go to waste.

She took a stroll through her own garden as Adora finished trimming the hedges. The work Adora had done in two days was absolutely stunning. The place looked much cleaner and neatly tidied up. Scorpia knew no payment would be enough for Adora’s hard work.

As Scorpia approached the gardener, Adora saw the shadow from behind. She turned to see the princess approaching her, and immediately, she bowed her head towards her. “Your Royal Highness!” Adora called out, caught off guard by Scorpia’s sudden arrival.

“Please, you don’t have to bow or anything. You can just call me Scorpia,” she smiled, waving a dismissive hand.

“You have to accept my apologies. I know you told me to leave an hour ago, but the hedges just didn’t look right…” Adora replied, looking up.

“You’ve been making this garden more beautiful than ever. Just don’t you to work yourself to death! I mean… Yeah. Don’t die. That’d be bad,” Scorpia chuckled, and Adora joined her in the gentle laughter.

“I’ll certainly do my best, Your Royal… Uh… Mademoiselle Scorpia,” Adora corrected herself, though still in a formal matter. Scorpia could tell that Adora had been drilling into herself how to act around a member of royalty. It was oddly cute.

“Well, if you’re about done, I actually had one more favor to ask of you,” Scorpia said.

“Of course! Anything you wish!”

“You see that small building over there?” Scorpia gestured to the studio in the distance.

“I’ve noticed it has an occupant,” Adora said. “Though, they seem reserved.”

“Yeah, that’s my friend, Catra. She’s… Well, she’s a painter. She’s been painting you the last couple of days, and she’s _really_ good!”

“I wasn’t aware… I suppose this garden is worth painting, but… She’s painted me too? Really?”

“Yeah! But… Well, she hasn’t really got a chance to get a good look at you. So I was wondering if you could… Model for her? She’s shy, so I had to ask for her…” Scorpia scratched the back of her head as she spoke.

“Model…? I… Hm. I wasn’t aware that’d be in my job description,” Adora blushed slightly. “Does she… release the paintings…?”

“Oh, no, she doesn’t show them to anyone except Entrapta and I,” Scorpia explained. “It’s only if you want, too!”

“Well… I suppose if it’s a private painting, I… I wouldn’t be against it,” Adora’s face flushed red. “Though I’ve never modelled for anyone…”

“You’ll do great!” Scorpia smiled. “Thanks so much. I’m sure Catra will be ecstatic to see you.”

“I see…”

With that, Scorpia flashed one more smile and headed back to her palace, leaving Adora with the hot garden and her own thoughts.

Adora looked to the studio for some time. Certainly, she never thought of herself as worth modelling. Her hands and clothes were covered in dirt, and her hair stuck to hr sweaty forehead. By all means, she was a mess.

But if Scorpia had requested it, she supposed there was no harm.

She could only hope the paintings remained private…

* * *

Catra saw a figure walk pass her window as she set up another canvas.

At first, she assumed it was Entrapta, here to collect gear on whatever project she was working on. She barely batted an eye when a knock came to the wooden door, her attention drawn to the finishing touches of the Adora lake painting.

“Come in,” Catra called out. When the door opened, Catra looked over, expecting Scorpia or Entrapta to waltz in.

Her heart stopped when she saw Adora standing right outside her studio.

“I… I was told that you wanted to see me,” Adora spoke, looking around the messy studio and scattered paper. “For… Modelling.”

“Who…” Catra tried to get the words out, but she struggled to even breathe for a few seconds.

Her barrier had been invaded, and yet it was by the person she wanted to see most.

“… Is everything alright?” Adora asked after about ten seconds of silence from the painter. “Princess Scorpia mentioned that you wanted to see me… But you seem surprised.”

Of course. Of course Scorpia planned this. Catra was stuck between being angry at her and almost thankful that she did what Catra could not. She would’ve appreciated a heads-up, but at the same time, she probably would’ve violently rejected the idea of Adora modelling for her.

She’d decide how to properly react later, when she wasn’t in the middle of panicking.

“It’s… It’s fine. Um…” Catra didn’t even have time to hide the paintings she had done of Adora. “As you can see, I’ve… painted you a few times…”

“They’re lovely,” Adora smiled. “I really like them.”

“You do? It doesn’t make you… uncomfortable?” Catra asked.

“Of course not. You live here, I assume, and you use the garden as your subject for painting. If I’m there, it’s only natural I’m in it. But… I’m surprised you want to paint me specifically. I’m not exactly beautiful…”

“You are.”

“Hm?”

“I…” Catra cleared her throat, accidentally letting that compliment slip. “Just trust me. Um… If you’re okay with me painting you, would you mind standing by the window for… Well, it might take a while.”

“Of course. I had no plans tonight, after all,” Adora replied.

Catra prepared her gear for the portrait. But before Adora walked over to the designated point, she stood by the door and brought her hands up.

To Catra’s surprise, Adora took a few seconds to begin unbuttoning her own shirt.

“What… What are you doing?” Catra asked as Adora began to undress herself.

“What does it look like I’m doing?” Adora responded with an intense blush. “Just promise me this painting won’t be in some gallery.”

“I…”

But before Catra could finish, Adora suddenly removed her top from her body, leaving her chest bare.

Catra’s eyes widened. For a few seconds, she was completely and utterly paralysed. She had only met Adora in person a few minutes ago and now they were stripping right in front of her for… seemingly no reason.

But before Adora could take off her suspenders, Catra suddenly regained control of her panicking mind.

“W… Wait! Wait, you _don’t_ have to be naked for this!” Catra called out suddenly.

Adora’s hands came to stop. She looked to Catra with confusion. “What’re you talking about? Don’t all paintings of people involve them being naked?”

“No! Well, yes! Sometimes! But not this one!” Catra quickly spoke.

“… Oh.”

There was silence.

Long, long awkward silence.

Catra looked respectfully to the floor and Adora had the most intense blush of her entire life. Her heart was pounding within her chest, and her body began to feel light.

In that moment, Adora would’ve been okay with disappearing. Forever, if need be.

Silently, Adora collected her shirt from the floor and put it back on, making her way before Catra. There was an agreement with no words that _that_ would never be discussed again.

Once Adora was dressed and standing before Catra, she eventually cleared her throat. “How do you want me to… pose?” Adora asked, having prepared to lie down in a sexy position all this time.

“Just looking out the window is fine. You’re perfect right now,” Catra said, chewing on the wooden end of her brush. She looked at Adora for a few more seconds, before applying the first stroke of the brush to her blank canvas. “Beautiful…”

Adora could see the sky turn from orange to red as the sun slowly began to set over the next couple of hours. She had all the time in the world to observe her garden and make notes of any imperfections that needed tidying up.

But her attention was also focused on the painter.

Catra’s loose shirt that exposed her sharp collarbone.

Her eyes of pure focused as she studied both the painting and Adora.

The way she put the handle of the brush between her lips.

Even the way she breathed as she created slow, delicate strokes.

Adora noticed each and every detail within Catra’s demeanour, and Catra observed and studied every inch of Adora. Within silence, they grew to know each other.

Within silence, they found intimacy.

* * *

Eventually, it had become much too dark to paint. But Catra was mostly done by then.

In those few hours, only a few words had been exchanged. And yet there was something of a connection. Something that drew them together. They understood each other in a way no one else quite did.

Catra’s mannerisms as she painted. The way Adora studied her own garden and noted down slight imperfections. Body language that they picked up on.

They knew each other. And they didn’t.

“… I think that’s all I’ll need,” Catra spoke, her voice dry and crackly. She cleared her throat, bringing moisture to her lips once more. “Thank you so much for your time.”

“Of course,” Adora responded. She glanced around the studio for a few seconds as Catra placed her brushes away and studied her new painting.

When Adora walked around to look at it, she was almost blown away with how wonderful the lighting and color was. The way it captured Adora’s face of study, and the light shining directly onto her.

“Catra, this is incredible…” Adora gasped. “I’ve never had a painting of myself… You made me look more beautiful than I actually am.”

“That’s impossible,” Catra replied. “I can’t improve on perfection.”

Adora was caught off guard by that statement. Even Catra herself potentially didn’t realize what she just said, as she was focused on studying her painting.

However, there was something different about this specific painting compared to all the other ones in this studio.

It was fully colored.

“… May I ask a question?” Adora spoke up.

“Hm,” Catra mumbled, her eyes focused on the fine details of the painting.

“I’m not judging, but… why are so many of your pieces unfinished?” Adora gestured to the many canvases.

“… Are you referring to the lack of color?” Catra asked.

“Yes. Is it a stylistic choice…?”

“… Sure. Let’s go with that.”

“You’re not going to tell me?”

“It’s nothing you need to concern yourself with,” Catra spoke. She glanced over to Adora. “Thank you for your time. It’s late. Do you need me to walk you home?”

“No, it’s… It’s alright. Thank you, though,” Adora nodded.

With the awkward farewell, and lack of interaction on Catra’s part, Adora left the studio in silence.

As she opened the door and walked out, she looked up to the night sky. The way the moon reflected on the mossy lake. It was beauty. Something Adora admired, and something she was envious of.

She heard another set of footsteps, and when Adora looked down, she suddenly crossed paths with someone else in the garden. A short woman with long, almost purple hair, and a big smile.

The short woman made her way to Catra’s studio. Adora was surprised anyone visited, considering how reserved Catra seemed to be.

As the door opened, Adora could hear the conversation from the studio. She didn’t mean to snoop, but the voice of the short woman was already quite loud. She continued to walk away, but she could hear every word of the conversation within the studio.

“Hi, Catra!”

“Entrapta… You here to pick up your things?”

“Yeah… Ooh, who’s this?”

“… Adora. The new gardener.”

“Oh, Scorpia mentioned hiring someone new! Why’d you paint them? I thought you did environments.”

“I think they’re beautiful…”

“Huh. I see. Fun! Do you know where my tools are?”

That was all Adora heard before she was too far from the studio.

It was only a vacant conversation, but something within it resonated with Adora. Something she couldn’t quite get out of her head. It was something Catra had been doing all day that Adora absolutely loved.

Every time Catra referred to Adora, she used the pronoun of ‘they’ or ‘them’.

No one else had done that to Adora before.

And the more she heard it…

The more they began to like it.

* * *

The cobblestone streets of Paris were as crowded as ever as Adora made her way through the cold, misty morning.

Her breath formed visibly before herself, and she wore her warm clothes. She browsed the many small stores crowded next to each other. There was only one thing on her shopping list…

The clacking of horse hooves against the road was mixed with the sound of footsteps and distant conversation. People made their way to and from work, and some stores were only just opening up.

Adora never minded the crowds so much as long as she could cover herself in as many layers as possible. She liked wearing warm, thick clothes. It hid her body. Made her anonymous.

As she walked and browsed the store signs, she spotted an art store in the distance. Exactly what she needed.

She had been thinking about Catra’s studio. And although all her paintings were gorgeous, they were also unfinished. Colorless. Nearly lifeless. Adora tried to understand why Catra did it, but she came to no feasible conclusion.

She tried to piece together if it was something specific. Clearly, Catra’s paintings were colorless. But what color specifically?

She often painted gardens. And gardens mostly consisted of one color. It wasn’t difficult for Adora to draw the conclusion.

She peered in through the large window of the art shop, and instantly spotted exactly what she needed. What Catra needed.

Because Catra deserved to see her paintings come to life fully.

She wasn’t sure why Catra didn’t use this color. But today, that would change. Adora found exactly the color Catra was missing in her paintings. With this, Catra could finish her paintings, like they deserved to be.

Adora spotted a small tin of green paint.

**Author's Note:**

> Link to fanart in chapter: https://twitter.com/nrchornyttps/status/1369106137254137863?s=21


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